


A Time To Love

by Solanaceae



Series: Femslash Friday [6]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Candles, Canonical Character Death, Cozy, F/F, Femslash Friday, Femslash Yuletide, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Rule 63, Snowball Fight, Tolkien Femslash Week, blizzard, pre-Nirnaeth fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 6,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solanaceae/pseuds/Solanaceae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of femslash drabbles set in Tolkien's legendarium, written for <a href="http://femslash-friday.tumblr.com">Femslash Friday</a>.<br/>(Note: Marvel drabbles moved to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1774432/chapters/3798538">here</a>.)</p><p>#16: <i>Kept Secrets</i>: Irissë and a wedding.<br/>#17: <i>Comfort</i>: Recovery is a long road (Nellas/Nienor)<br/>#18: <i>Dawn</i>: Indis/Nerdanel, "you declared the birth of a new life"<br/>#19: <i>Uplifted</i>: Elwing flies in the morning.<br/>#20: <i>Sunlight</i>: Arwen dances in sunlight.<br/>#21: <i>River Song</i>: Nimrodel sings, and Mithrellas watches.<br/>#22: <i>the womb of the earth</i>: A dwarf awakes below.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moonrise (Yavanna/Nienna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Darkening, Nienna comforts Yavanna.

“I failed. I failed you and everyone else in this world--”

“No. Don’t ever say that. You haven’t failed at all.” Nienna’s fingers wound tight around Yavanna’s hand, pulling her closer. She buried her face in the dark hair before her, smelling the salt of her own tears mingled with something warm and green, like the light of Laurelin through leaves. The Trees behind them were black and crumbling, charcoal staining her fingertips as she pressed her hand against them, searching for light, for warmth, for something other than this terrible _death_.

“I should have been able to fix it,” Yavanna whispered, lifting her face, keeping her arms around Nienna. Her eyes were bloodshot and Nienna could feel the tremors shaking her, a tired, empty vibration. There was nothing left in her, all her power poured forth into coaxing life from her greatest creations and then watching them wither under her fingers, too drained to survive.

(And she wondered if the same would happen to Yavanna, now, if she would simply _fade_ , and she shivered with fear and sent a prayer to the One, wondering if he could even still hear them, or if they were truly alone now.)

“Hope is not lost,” she replied, pressing her cheek to Yavanna’s and letting their tears mingle, cool and wet and tasting of the sea. “The Trees bore fruit, in the end, did they not?”

Yavanna nodded. “Not enough,” she mumbled, “not big enough, nor bright enough, I wasn’t good enough to heal the world--”

“No one asked you to be.” She kissed her, felt Yavanna tremble. Her lips tasted of the earth, like grass and light, and Nienna wished she could give something in return besides bitter loss.

_We have had enough of that in recent days, after all._

“There will be light again,” she told Yavanna, whispering the words into her lips, feeling the truth of them. “Light and darkness, as it was meant to be--” Her gaze caught something on the horizon and her breath snagged in her chest, words bubbling up -- there. She grabbed Yavanna's hand, pointing wordlessly.

In the westward sky, a soft light grew, pale and burning and drowning out the stars. The dead trees cast stark black shadows across the grassy hill, and Yavanna lifted her face to the sky, eyes wide and wondering. A disc of silver blossomed from the horizon, and the tears in Nienna’s eyes fractured it into a million shining fragments, dazzling and frightening and beautiful.

She remembered a shining silver blossom cupped in Yavanna’s shaking hands, the last drop of light Telperion gave, and knew.

“Isil,” she whispered, then louder: “A light, Yavanna, do you see it?”

Yavanna nodded, the tears on her cheeks shining silver in the moonlight, and Nienna held her tighter, feeling her trembling fall still.


	2. Day's End (fem!Maedhros/fem!Fingon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rule 63'd Maedhros/Fingon before the Nirnaeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [30 Days of Femslash](http://silmladylove.tumblr.com/post/61630822803/30-days-of-femslashd) Day 5: Write something about loss, leaving, or death.
> 
> Names are hard.
> 
> (Because sticking an ë at the ends of all the Quenya names is an _absolutely legitimate tactic_ , of course it is.)

“This time, Maitimë, _this_ time we’ll succeed, and Morgoth will fall before our combined might, and _no one_ will be able to contest our right to rule a free land in peace–”

Maedhros smiled, tangling her fingers in Fingon’s hair. The gold-threaded braids were undone, spilling over her cousin’s back, glinting in the firelight. There was a reckless, brilliant light in Fingon’s eyes, and her lips tasted of summer-wine, shining star-bright.

“We’ll rule together,” her cousin continued, laughter dancing at the edge of her voice, and she picked up the crown from the table she had set it aside on, twirled it on her fingers: “This matters not, Maitimë, never has. You and I, we can rule Beleriand—split it down the middle, if you want, and take back every land Morgoth ever defiled, make it _clean_ again, make it a place we can _live_.”

_And we will live together, and it will be as it was before—before the burning of the ships, before the Ice, back when it was you and I in an unstained land under a golden sky… is that it, Finnë, is that what you want?_

And she knew as well as anyone that no one could erase the past, that some wounds never healed, but she let Fingon pull her closer all the same, fingers ghosting over the stump of her right wrist, because her cousin had always saved her, and this time they would save the land together, and it would be a tale worthy of Maglor’s harp, a tale of triumph and glory instead of the fall of a brilliant people into shadow.

Fingon placed the crown on Maedhros’ head, smiling as though to say _this is where it belongs, on the head of my Queen._ Maedhros drew her closer, crushed her to her.

“What do you think the people will name this battle, when it is over?” she whispered into Fingon’s hair, inhaling the scent that was undeniably _her_ , the scent that reminded her of a tryst under a silver tree, stolen kisses that they could barely initiate without laughing for the sheer joy of being together, and free. “We have had a glorious battle, already, have we not? Seems we shall need to search for more fitting names, once we have crushed Morgoth’s forces—”

Fingon pressed her lips to the fluttering pulse in Maedhros’ neck, and she stiffened against her, fingers tightening in her hair. “We shall have no need for a name, for it shall be the _last_ battle, and there will be no need for more once the Enemy is gone.” She spoke the words with shining conviction, as though the battle were already won, Thangorodrim already so much ash on the wind, and Maedhros could _see_ the victory when she closed her eyes, Fingon’s armor shining in the sunset and the Silmarils brilliant under the light of the sun, freed from Morgoth’s crown.

“The last battle,” she repeated, and the words felt right in her mouth—and what would it be like, to no longer have to fight, to rule a land that was peaceful and safe?

“And we will win it together,” Fingon added, tilting her head up, and Maedhros kissed her, thinking, _together—and then, after that, forever with you._

~x~

 

(And when the banners foundered in the midst of Morgoth’s army, going down in flame and blood, she closed her eyes and tried to regain that victory that had been so close she could _see_ it—but she could not imagine a field of triumph without Fingon by her side, had never been able to.)


	3. you are the light that blinds me (fem!Maedhros/fem!Fingon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( _the light is dazzling and I can no longer see your face_ )
> 
> Maedhros thinks of the one she loves.

Fingon’s eyes were blue like the sky after first dawn Maedhros ever saw, hanging in torment from a black mountain, and when the fire fell away from the horizon and the sky was brilliant and cloudless, she would have cried if she had had anything left in her to give to the merciless light. It was the same shade, and everything was tinted gold like Fingon’s braids (only she had still been Findekániel, then, though she was no longer Maitimë and never wished to be again—Fingon would break that rule in the end, but she was the only one Maedhros allowed to, because if anyone deserved to it was her).

The same shade, and every dawn after that reminded her of the way Laurelin had glinted off Findekániel’s braids, and every moonrise of the way Teleperion made her skin shine as they moved together, dark shadows wrapped together in the shadows under the silver trees, and she  _missed_ that, missed Findekániel and her laughing eyes and soft words.

There was no memory Morgoth had left untouched, and even her love’s face terrified her now, because nothing was real anymore, and had not been for a long time. There was only the pain, and the fire waiting for her every morning.

 _We were sworn to the Everlasting Darkness, s_ he thought distantly, not sure what the words meant. And on the heels of that, a vaguely concerned idea— _I do not remember for what we swore._

She wondered if she was even now trapped in the Darkness she had feared so much.

(But no, it could not be—not when her lover’s eyes graced the sky above, the gold of her braids beating down mercilessly, blistering Maedhros’ skin and dazzling her eyes until the world swam in red and black. Not when there was so much light, painful and inescapable.)

_And this does not end, does it? I cannot remember a beginning, so there will never be an end—here, in the light, with nothing else, not even the one I love—_

She thought she remembered her love’s name, but did not dare try to bring it from the depths of her mind—to try would be to know for certain if she had lost it forever, and she would rather pretend for awhile longer.


	4. The Ice Claimed You As Its Own (Aredhel/Elenwë)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aredhel and Elenwë on the Helcaraxë (and what it means to lose it all).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for character death (canonical).

_You were always the bright one, the smiling one_ , Aredhel thought as a dark bundle was lowered through the ice, and it was so  _wrong,_ this ending, because this wasn’t how it was supposed to have happened.

( _We will leave for a new land, and truly live for the first time_ , they had all said, and Elenwë’s eyes and been bright and earnest,  _yes we will, and we will be free_ )

They had neither of them been afraid. Perhaps they should have been.

And the ice still stretched on before them, unending, a spiking of white beneath a dark dome unlit by stars, as if the clinging mists had extinguished even Varda’s lights. Elenwë had always loved the stars, and Aredhel had loved the silver nights in Valinor, when they lay on a hilltop and traced their destiny in the stars.

_Those will lead us to a new land_ , she had said after the disaster in Alqualondë, pointing to the stars that still shone despite it all (because truthfully, part of Aredhel expected it all to have just  _stopped_ after the first dying scream, for the world to have ceased to hurtle onwards—it never did, and thereafter she never hoped it would). And if Elenwë’s sword had been stained dark in that same starlight, Aredhel had pretended not to notice, just as she pretended she did not have to wash her own knives over and over until she thought she would scrub the metal into nothingness in an attempt to wash out the stains that never really faded.

And she had believed, because by then it had been too late to turn back, and she had never been one to admit that she had made a mistake.

The ice claimed many, so many that she could see the terror on her brother’s face, the kindling rage in her father’s dark eyes—he would make the ones who doomed them pay for the blood they had spilled, he said, and she screamed inside,  _they spilled no blood, blood cannot run in a frozen waste like this, they doomed us to nothing but our own stubborn stupidity, forcing us onwards––and what then, atar, what do we do when we are all frozen corpses in shrouds, drifting beneath the ice?_

It seemed cruel, after all that, to doom the ones who fell to an eternity adrift under an unmoving sheet of unforgiving white, but there was nowhere to bury the dead in an unyielding field.

_Keep me warm_ , Elenwë had begged, a terrible paleness in her face, and Aredhel had wrapped her arms around her and given her all she could, wishing she could give more—give until she was bled of her last drop of warmth, until she was ice and Elenwë was fire, as she had once been.

And then the ice, and after all that (Turukáno’s screams and the child’s wails, the splash of half-frozen water burning her hands as she lunged forward, reaching) it seemed a shame to pull her out only to put her back under again, let her go for the last time.

( _Keep me warm, until the end_ ––and she hadn’t even been able to do that, hadn’t been able to breathe warmth back into Elenwë’s lips though she had  _tried_ , the tears streaming down her face freezing on her cheeks, her breath fogging the air until she could barely see the face before her, and it changed nothing)

When the bundle disappeared beneath the ice, she stood up and walked on, never looking back. If she had, she thought she might have fallen to her knees, joined Elenwë under the ice once and for all.

_Onwards, then, for you._


	5. Return To Me (Indis/Míriel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indis and the one she loves.

_You'll come back, won't you?_  she had asked, fingers tight around the sleeve of Míriel's dress, and Míriel had nodded, eyes trained on something beyond her, silver hair catching the candlelight and streaking flame down her back.

 _Of course. I'm only... I'm so_ tired _, Indis, I just... want to rest._

 _And after –_ She had tightened her grip, suddenly frightened.  _Míriel, stay with me and rest here, you need not flee as though to death, this is not–_

 _Not the end,_  Míriel had finished for her, though those had not been the words Indis had meant to say. She leaned down and pressed her lips to Indis', the touch a fleeting warmth before she pulled away. And Indis had believed, because she had no choice (would have never let her go if she  _hadn't_  thought that Míriel would come back).

And then the news – she would not wake, did not wish to return. She had watched the messenger give the news to Finwë, had seen the way his face crumpled, the way he slumped sideways as soon as the messenger was gone, resting his forehead to the cold stone wall and closing his eyes.

(Maybe that had been what drew them together, in the end – they had loved the same elf, and had lost her together.)

"You lied to me," she informed the wind, leaning out of a window that had once been Míriel's, pretending she could hear the silver-haired elf's voice in the distance, her clear laughter. "You didn't come back. Haven't you rested long enough?"

_Wake from your sleep and come back, Míriel._

( _return to me, won't you?_ )

 _Soon_ , the wind whispered, but ages of loneliness passed before that came true.


	6. Snowbound (Nellas/Niënor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nellas receives an unexpected visitor. (Femslash Yuletide Prompt #7: Blizzard)

❅ ❅ ❅

The wind had started howling awhile ago, the snow that the dark clouds had been promising all day whirling through the air, making it impossible to see more than a few paces out. Nellas had stood in the doorway of her root cave for a few long minutes, watching the whiteness descend over the forest, and then had stepped back inside, pulling the thick cloth down over the opening and listening to the tree shudder about her.

She had just curled up in a corner, a thick blanket wrapped around her, when the sound of urgent knocking on the tree roots drifted down. Startled, she stood up, letting the blanket fall from her.

_It can’t be…_

The knock came again. She hastened across the room and pulled the cloth aside. The wind sent puffs of white through the thin opening, cold striking her bare skin. Niënor stood in the shelter of the overhanging roots, winter cloak crusted with snow and exposed cheeks bright red. 

"Nellas," she said, by way of greeting, clapping her mittened hands together and shivering. "Can I come in?"

Nellas stepped aside, refastening the cloth as soon as Niënor had entered, muffling the noise of the wind outside. “You came,” she said, not quite knowing what else to say – she had  _hoped_ , of course, that Niënor would come, always hoped – but that was a fierce storm outside, and the snow was already thick.

Niënor unclasped her cloak, snow slipping from the folds as she did so. There were shining puddles of snowmelt all across the ground already, and half-melted flakes caught in her golden hair. “Of course I did. Do you think I’d let something as silly as a  _storm_  keep me from coming to you?” 

"I suppose I should have known better," Nellas laughed, sitting and holding out her arm, inviting Niënor to join her under the warm blanket. Niënor obliged, slipping underneath and wrapping her arms around Nellas, nestling her head in the hollow between her shoulder and neck. Nellas ran a hand through Niënor’s damp hair. "But you may find it hard to return to Menegroth until this storm is over."

"Perhaps that would not be such a terrible thing," Niënor replied, smiling, as the storm raged on.

 

 


	7. Stay (Aredhel/Elenwë)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aredhel and Elenwë share some warmth on the Helcaraxë. (Written for Femslash Yuletide Prompt #20: Cozy)

Elenwë had not thought that there could be warmth on the Ice, had barely even remembered that there was such a thing -- perhaps, indeed, those golden days under the light of Laurelin had been but a dream, and a fading one at that. Even the stars here were shrouded and cold, and too far away for their light to reach those on the groaning ice. 

And yet, somehow, warmth remained.

Aredhel had caught her shuddering with cold in the corner of the tent she shared with Turgon and had knelt beside her without a word, throwing her cloak over Elenwë's shoulders and drawing her close. Elenwë had hesitated, then leaned in, drawn by the fluttering warmth of her sister-in-law's heart, the heat that sank in through layers of clothing to her own pale skin.

"You need to take better care of yourself," Aredhel whispered into her hair, and Elenwë closed her eyes and focused on how _nice_ that felt, how very odd it felt to not be cold anymore -- or, at the very least, to have the chill that lingered in her bones driven so deep she could barely feel it.

"It's too cold," she replied, lips barely moving, and: "I'm so tired, Iressë." She felt Aredhel tense, but couldn't bring herself to worry -- it was so nice and warm here, in her arms.

"Stay right here," Aredhel murmured, and Elenwë nodded, wishing she could.


	8. Lightbringer (Lúthien/Finduilas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finduilas pays a visit to the prisoner upstairs. (Femslash Yuletide Prompt #23: Candles)

The first time she braved the empty hallway was during a feast, when she knew that Celegorm and his far more threatening brother would be downstairs, making merry with all the rest. She had excused herself early on, claiming stomach unrest ( _womanly troubles_ , she had heavily implied, forearm pressed to her side as though it pained her, and her father had nodded once, excusing her), and was now making her way through the silent corridor, silken slippers whisper-soft on the cold stone floor. She held her candle as she ventured down into the darkness, the flame flickering wildly in an unseen draft.

There was a guard there, of course, but the soldier was one Finduilas knew was still loyal to her father, and when she smiled at her the guard stepped away politely, nodding a silent greeting.

She pressed her fingers to the rough wood, then rapped her knuckles against it twice, sharply. There was a pause, then a rustle of fabric audible through the thick door.

"Yes?"

She held her candle up, standing on tiptoe to peer through the bars set high in the door. “It – I am Finduilas, daughter of Orodreth.”

Footsteps, then, approaching the door. She waited until a pale face appeared, the candlelight casting fleeting shadows across it.

"Is there aught I can help you with, Finduilas?" Lúthien’s voice was low and melodic, and something about it made Finduilas think of flowers under starlight, and shadowed trees––

"No," she blurted out, and then, feeling a prickling heat cross her face: "I… no, milady, I simply wished to… spend some time with you." It sounded so ridiculous, said aloud – what could she do, one maiden against the two brothers mere floors away (brothers, she reminded herself, who had doomed her kinsman to the darkness, but more importantly brothers who could come upstairs at any moment).

Lúthien smiled, the expression barely visible in the dim light. “I thank you for that. It has been some time since I have had… enjoyable company.”

Finduilas leaned closer, pushing the candle as close to the bars as she dared. “I am sorry I could not come to you sooner,” she replied, pressing her hand to the door and imagining Lúthien doing the same on the other side, their fingers separated by a mere inch of wood. “And perhaps I can come again, if there is no one to see––”

Lúthien laughed. “I would greatly appreciate that, Finduilas.” Her face was pressed close to the bars, one hand wrapped around the iron. Finduilas wanted to reach up and grasp that hand, impart some measure of comfort to the trapped elf. “For now, though––I think the light you have brought tonight is enough.”


	9. Weaver and Dancer (Nessa/Vairë)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vairë weaves, Nessa dances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [this](http://elleth.x10host.com/ladyfic/ladyfic.htm) to generate the pairing and prompt because it is a very fun thing to play with.

She wove her love a dress of blue, and watched her dance in the darkness, feet striking the grass where gold and silver light once mingled. The fabric swirled with her motion, the ocean's depths and the brightness of the stars, and Vairë felt her weaver's hands clench into themselves, wishing to tangle in dark hair, pull Nessa closer.

"You never come outside anymore," Nessa said, slowing her movement, spinning breathless to a halt in front of Vairë. "Always in those dark halls, weaving away the hours. You should spend more time here."

"There is too much to tell." The tapestries, always. Images that clogged her mind until her fingers could spin them free, and endless halls with empty spaces for all the sorrow the world had to offer. Moments of peace like this were rare.

Nessa shook her head. "Loss and grief, all of it." She brushed a finger against Vairë's lips, smiling. "And I believe your hands are better suited to––other tasks, hm?"

Vairë smiled and pressed herself against Nessa. She thought about another tapestry, of a dancer in a blue dress with a smile on her face and a laugh on her lips, and her fingers twitched with desire.


	10. Summertime (Findis/Elemmírë)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Findis, Elemmírë, and a hot summer day. (Written for the silmarillionkinkmeme's [International Women's Day challenge.](http://silmarillionkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1778.html))

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Findis rolled onto her back and squinted at the sky, one hand behind her head, the other thrown carelessly across the grass. “It’s too _hot_ to be hungry, ‘mírë,” she groaned, closing her eyes.

From above her, Elemmírë laughed, the sound like falling rain. Findis opened one eye.

“It is no laughing matter,” she said, trying to sound serious. “Here we went to all this trouble to have a picnic somewhere _private_ , and the weather itself seems to have conspired to ruin it.”

“And if the heat is enough to impact _your_ appetite, it must be dreadful indeed.” Elemmírë pressed a hand to Findis’ cheek. Findis swatted it away half-heartedly, letting her eyes drift shut again. 

The hot air pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe. Her dress was already soaked with sweat under the arms and across the back––if she sat up now, there would be grass clinging all along the light blue fabric. Elemmírë seemed untouched by the heat, and Findis would have complained about that if it weren’t too damned _hot_.

“We could’ve gone down to Alqualondë,” she managed to say, “or stayed _inside_.”

“And miss all this fun?” Elemmírë’s fingers returned, tracing cool lines up the side of Findis’ arm, and Findis wanted to grab her and ask her how she wasn’t dying in this heat, how the golden sky above did not make her want to find somewhere dark and cold and hide for awhile.

“I see nothing fun about roasting,” Findis mumbled, and Elemmírë bent over her, pressed her lips to Findis’ cheek, the touch surprisingly cool.

“Ah, but the fun is in forcing you to stay still for a moment or two, at least.” 

Findis made a noise of protest, and Elemmírë sealed her lips with her mouth, laughing.

 


	11. Star-touched (Anairë/Eärwen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three views of Alqualondë.

The pearls scattered across the beaches of Alqualondë reflected the light of Telperion, the wind-torn scraps of mist that clung to the edges of the surrounding cliffs lending a shimmer to the air. Near the tide line, the wet sand was firm enough to support Anairë, sparing her the indignity of flailing for balance in the shifting sands farther up the beach.

A gull cried overhead, the mournful noise made shrill by the persistent breeze, and Anairë glanced upwards.

Stars glimmered in the farthest reaches of the sky, shaded silver on the western horizon and darkening to inky black over the whispering sea. Anairë's breath caught in her throat.

"Is it always so lovely?" she asked, and heard her companion's soft chuckle as if from a distance.

"On clear nights, I sometimes fancy that I can see all the way to the eastern shore," Eärwen replied, voice teasing. "Mere imagination, of course, but lovely nonetheless."

The sea lapped at their ankles, sending cold fingers over their bare feet. To Anairë's dazzled eyes, the heavens seemed to be falling towards her––or else she was hurtling up into them, the silver light swallowing her with a murmer like the hungry ocean. She reached blindly for her friend, felt Eärwen's hand slip into hers, steadying her.

=-=-=-=-=

The beaches of Alqualondë were stained red, bundles of cloth like dolls tossed aside littering the sand, empty eyes reflecting the stars.

Blood pooled amid the pearls, the ocean tugging at the beach, seeking to cleanse the defiled land.

In Tirion, Anairë woke with a cry on her lips to the darkness that had become their world, wrenching free from a dream of glazed blue eyes and a familiar smile frozen in a rictus of pain and fury.

=-=-=-=-=

Alqualondë was quiet, the gulls overhead silent scraps of white in the dark sky. Anairë's feet sank into the sand, dislodging pearls with every footstep and leaving deep indentations in her wake. Eärwen walked ahead, scuffing up sand with every step, snarling words under her breath that Anairë only occasionally caught.

She played a game with with the half-heard words––truth or lie.

"I do not grieve yet," Eärwen said, teeth clenched, lips barely moving. "There is no room for that in my anger." Truth.

"I don't blame _you_ ," she added, a bit louder. Lie. Anairë bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, hating herself.

Eärwen stopped suddenly, tilting her head up as if seeking for an answer from the distant stars. "We should have––we should have never let those murderers leave here alive. I would have wielded the sword myself, and damn the price––"

Truth. Anairë closed her eyes. The rumble of waves crashing onto the rocks seemed fitful, as if even it were furious, vengeful.

"I still care about you," Eärwen whispered, suddenly close, and she opened her eyes to find her inches away, brow knitted with anger but eyes clear.

Anairë leaned in abruptly to taste salt on Eärwen's lips, sea-spray and tears torn away by the wind.

Truth.


	12. we know how to fly (Aredhel/Elenwë)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aredhel and Elenwë go cliffdiving. For femslash100's [drabbletag5](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/852173.html?thread=2778829#t2930381), prompt "Daring".

"It's not so high," Irissë scoffed when Elenwë showed her the cliff above the mountain pool, already rolling up her sleeves. "Bet I can beat you up, anyway."

The Vanya gave her a small smile and leapt up onto the first ledge, bare legs flashing. Irissë followed, keeping close behind her, sure that the delicate, bookish girl couldn't keep up that pace for long.

To her surprise, Elenwë scaled the cliff with graceful ease (the shower of pebbles that hit Irissë full in the face and delayed her for several seconds was very clearly  _deliberate_ ). She also beat Irissë by a good bodylength, and sat down at the edge to watch her struggle up the last stretch.

"How was the climb?" she asked sweetly as Irissë dragged herself over the edge, resorting to an embarrassingly inelegant kick to swing her legs over.

"Very well, you win," Irissë gasped out, holding up her hands in defeat. "Happy?"

Elenwë offered her a hand, smiling again. When Irissë took it she pulled her forward with surprising strength, toppling them both over the edge of the cliff, down towards the sparkling water. Irissë's startled yelp was muffled by Elenwë's lips, fastened on hers, both of them suspended in the rushing wind––

They hit the surface and she inhaled water, gasping and wrenching free of Elenwë to claw her way to the surface.

"I've always wanted to do that," Elenwë laughed, surfacing beside her, and Irissë sent an irritable splash of water her way.

"Next time  _ask_  for a kiss instead of dragging me off a cliff, then."

"Very well." Elenwë swam closer, grinning. "May I?"

"Of course you may," Irissë muttered, closing her eyes.

 


	13. There Was Light (Melian/Galadriel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melian, Galadriel, and a bit of magic. For femslash100's [drabbletag5](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/852173.html).

Galadriel often wonders what the stars were like over Cuiviénen, what it was like to watch them blossom under Varda's hands. If she knew, she thinks, maybe it would assuage the empty, nameless longing that flares sharpest when she stretches a hand towards the skies as if she can catch the jewels of the heavens on her fingertips.

"What was it like before the stars?" she asks one night, as casually as she can. Melian's breath is warm on her cheek, and Galadriel shudders as she runs her fingers over bare skin. She smiles and presses a finger to the hollow between Galadriel's collarbones, the spot where a bird's wings would begin.

"Would you like to see?"

Her dark eyes seem to reach up and swallow Galadriel, pulling her forward into a lightless void ablaze with a fury of sound, tones beyond Quendi hearing like the echoes of light itself. The music fills the emptiness until it is a tangible thing, buffeting her like ocean waves. Galadriel can feel her body shudder, but it's a distant thing, now, unconnected to what she has become.

Light blossoms, burning away into silence, and she forgets how to breathe as it washes over and through her.

She is nothing. (She is everything.)

Melian's lips on hers bring her back down, gasping for breath. She presses close to her teacher with a grateful noise, eyes still dazzled by a memory of light, something like satiety filling a bit of the emptiness inside.


	14. In the Valley of Tumladen (Aredhel/Elenwë)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elenwë has a little surprise for Aredhel.
> 
> For [Tolkien Femslash Week](tumblr.com/tagged/tolkien-femslash-week). AU in which Turgon died on the Helcaraxë and Elenwë (eventually) builds Gondolin herself.

"You still haven’t told me why you dragged me all the way out here," Aredhel remarked, pausing for breath. Ahead of her, Elenwë clambered over a large boulder, then turned to offer her a hand.

"You’ll see," was all she said, before bounding onwards up what looked like a dried-up streambed. Aredhel followed, shaking her head. It had only been three nights since Elenwë had burst into her room, cheeks flushed and eyes shining with excitement.  _We must travel east,_  she had insisted, tossing Aredhel a tunic and all but dragging her, half-clothed, from her bed.  _Come_ on _, Ireth, it’s important!_

She’d had no choice but to join her, of course, riding out from Vinyamar just as dawn broke over the mountains. Elenwë had grinned, urging her onwards – towards the rising sun.

(Elenwë’s smile came more often now, but there had been a time after Turukano’s death on the Ice when Aredhel had nearly forgotten what happiness looked like on the Vanya’s face. It was still a welcome sight whenever it appeared, even after so long.)

"Hurry up!" Elenwë’s head popped out from around the mouth of a tunnel that had suddenly appeared in the mountainside. "This is the right way."

Aredhel dutifully sped up her pace, following Elenwë up the narrow passage. “How did you ever find this place?” Her voice echoed in the dim space.

"Oh, I’ve never been here before," Elenwë replied cheerfully. "Come on!"

"What?" Aredhel nearly lost her balance and had to grab on to Elenwë to keep from tumbling headfirst. "The question still stands, then," she continued, squinting ahead – was that sunlight?

"Ulmo showed me."

"Ulmo."

"In a dream."

Aredhel nodded. “Great. In a – in a dream, you say.”  _Well, that’s a trustworthy guide for you, I suppose._  “And is it… is whatever you want to show me close?”

"Right up ahead." Elenwë grabbed her hand, tugging her along.

They rounded a corner and Aredhel blinked, nearly blinded by the sunlight pouring in. Her first thought was that they must have walked right through the mountain, because they seemed to be in a valley entirely surrounded by massive walls of rock, cradled in the hands of the mountain range. Everything was green, and she could see the distant sparkle of running water high up on the hill that rose at the far end of the valley. The afternoon sun came in at an angle over the ridge, gilding the steep slopes of rock and lining the grassland with light.

"What do you think?" Elenwë asked, coming up behind her and looping an arm around Aredhel’s waist.

"It’s beautiful."

"Beautiful enough to build a home in, do you think?"

Aredhel glanced sideways at her. “What do you mean?”

"That dream I told you about. Ulmo said – well, it’s always good to have a hidden place, especially when you live in a constant state of war, and this is about as safe as you can get – I mean,  _look_  at it.” She gestured with her free hand, excited. “It’s perfect.” Her hand dipped into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. “I’ve sketched out a few designs that I wanted Idril to look at – you know how she’s so wonderful with that kind of thing? – but a city right up there on that hill would work well. And I wanted you to see it, so I could – you know, ask if you wanted to––” 

She trailed off, flushing, and Aredhel felt a grin spreading across her face.

"Yes?"

"If you wanted to help me rule it," Elenwë finished, all in a rush, and there was a sudden lightness in Aredhel’s chest, happiness and love all rolled up into one. She threw her arms around Elenwë and swept her off her feet, spinning her around and around. Elenwë squeaked, blushing a deeper shade of red.

"Of  _course_  I do,” Aredhel laughed. “I couldn’t let you run off and start a secret realm all on your own, now, could I?”

Elenwë placed a hand on either side of her face and kissed her full on the mouth, the paper falling unheeded from her grasp. “I knew you’d like the idea,” she said when they came up for air. “We can go back and get started on it right away.”

 


	15. Sky of Flowers (Aredhel/Elenwë)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise kissing, flower crowns, etc. A story in three parts.

She kisses Elenwë in the light of the Mingling, deep in the dusty recesses of Tirion's library. The air smells of old books and fresh ink, Elenwë's papers are spread out across a heavy table, and they are completely alone.

Elenwë's smile is worth the three hours Irissë has spent in this stuffy building.

.

Irissë takes Elenwë on a long hunting trip (over the concerns of her father and Turukáno that Elenwë has never been hunting) and shows her how to set a snare, how to fire an arrow. In the evenings, they share a sleeping pallet beneath the arching branches, amid the fallen leaves. This deep in the woods, there is a band of stars visible in the northern sky during the softer light of Telperion, silver fading into black pinpricked with light.

Elenwë names the fragments of constellations visible to the north, and tells Irissë of the long tapestries woven for the Minyar by Vairë at the behest of Varda, illustrating the shapes traced by the patterns of the stars.

The next morning, Irissë finds a field of forget-me-not and nasturtium and weaves color into Elenwë's hair, blue and orange stars against a golden field.

. 

After Elenwë's betrothal to her brother, Irissë corners her in the silver-lit garden and presses her lips to the Vanya's mouth, tasting sweet wine and sugar there.

"We should not," Elenwë begins, but her hands clutch at Irissë's as though she never wants to release them, and the gleam in her eyes is not of aversion. Irissë tilts her head to one side, smiling.

"Do you care about what we  _ought  to do?"_

Elenwë shakes her head and kisses her back.

 

 

 


	16. Kept Secrets (Aredhel/Elenwë)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irissë and a wedding.

Even once Elenwë is to wed Turukáno, Irissë can't help but wish she could change what has to happen.

She dreams about pale hands and golden hair falling over bare skin, and wakes with a plea on her lips. She pens long letters that she consigns to the fire before the ink has dried, watching them curl and blacken and fall to ash.

_Let's run away, Elenwë, and never come back. Across the Sea, where the light of the Trees has never fallen, and you will be my Laurelin for all the rest of our long years, and I your faithful hunter._

In her more wistful moments, she outlines plans and lists what they would need – a good ship of Alqualondë-make, supplies, a refuge on the far side of the sea. She is still friends with Artanis, perhaps they could get a ship from Eärwen's kin. Supplies can be stolen, and refuges made.

All she needs is someone to run away with.

She hesitates too long (knows reality too well), and the wedding proceeds with Elenwë very much present. Irissë claps with the rest, and smiles till her face hurts.

When she returns to her home, she tears a strip of parchment and scribbles Elenwë's name on it, over and over, nothing more. She can't think of anything to put down.

After some thought, she burns this, too.

 


	17. Comfort (Nellas/Nienor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is a long road.
> 
> True drabble challenge for silmladylove (Tolkien Femslash Week)

Niënor still had trouble sleeping.

Nellas understood - no one could have lived through what her lover lived through unscathed - but it sent pain through her heart to wake to the sound of Niënor’s whimpering.

It was worst during the winter. Niënor shivered and cried out and clutched Nellas hard enough to bruise, frantically clawing her way back to wakefulness with the panic of a drowning swimmer. Nellas held her and whispered soothing lullabies she half-remembered from childhood.

“I’m sorry,” Niënor would mumble once her breathing had slowed.

“Do not apologize,” Nellas always told her, kissing her gently. “Never apologize, love.”

 


	18. Dawn (Indis/Nerdanel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “you declared the birth of a new life”
> 
> Silmladylove femslash february drabbletag for the-wavesinger

The waves crashed against the rocks below Indis’ window, tinted red by the rising sun. She had yet to grow accustomed to the sight - nothing like Laurelin’s soft golden glow; harsh and sudden and somehow too quiet.

“Admiring the view?”

Indis smiled without turning around. A pair of calloused hands slid up her bare arms, coming to rest on her shoulders. Nerdanel’s lips brushed the skin there.

“You haven’t missed a sunrise yet,” she added, voice muffled. Indis felt the vibration of the sound against her collarbone, and shivered with a sudden warmth.

“I must rise early to see to my duties,” she replied lightly. “Why not take a moment to see what that affords me?”

“Mm.” Nerdanel’s skilled fingers dug into her shoulders, kneading the tension already gathering there. “Have many duties to see to this morning, do you?”

Indis’ lips parted as Nerdanel’s hand moved lower, tracing circles across her lower back. “Nothing I could not - delay,” she replied after a moment.

Nerdanel chuckled, then stepped back. “So quick you are to set duties aside for your heart, Indis. Others might call that irresponsible.” She set a finger to Indis’ lips before the queen could protest. “Nay, love, I tease. This evening, I promise I shall make the weight of ruling this city melt away.”

Indis smiled. “I shall await that eagerly, then.”

 


	19. Uplifted (Elwing/Nienna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elwing flies in the morning. (For Tolkien Femslash Week Bingo: Song Lyrics O37: “Bring wings to the weak…”, Formats & Genres I12: True Drabble)

She went out every day at dawn to catch the morning breeze between her teeth, wind whistling cold and harsh through her feathers. This far up, the sea seemed dark as blood, the sky above pinpricked with stars.

Flying cleared her mind. Felt like emptiness, like something almost approaching peace. And she knew when she landed, there would be one waiting for her, someone with warm arms and an otherworldly glint in her eyes.

The Lady of Tears always seemed to have a smile for her despite the crystalline light of the tears falling to the grass at Elwing’s doorstep.

 


	20. Sunlight (Arien/Arwen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dance in sunshine.
> 
> (Tolkien Femslash Week Bingo, Card and Prompt: Crack: I15: Arien/Arwen, Formats and Genres: O41: Haiku, Cliche: I15: Gift-giving, Lyrics: I15: “The lines of you were the closest thing to holy I’d ever heard”)

The turning seasons  
Brought gold to the city walls  
A rain of sunshine  
  


Pearls of golden light  
The gift of one from on high  
For the beauty of her

Who chose mortality.  
Who does worship the sunlight  
By dancing outside,

Arms outstretched in prayer,  
Receiving the glimmer of  
The falling sunlight.

 


	21. River Song (Nimrodel/Mithrellas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nimrodel sings, and Mithrellas listens.
> 
> (Tolkien Femslash Week bingo: Card and Prompt: Lyrics O41: “I sing for love, I sing for me, and I’ll shout it out like a bird set free”, Tolkien Quotes: N19: "Mithrellas, one of the companions of Nimrodel…”, Language of Flowers: N19: Hollyhock: Ambition)

Nimrodel sang like the falling of water, like the river over stones.

Nimrodel sang, and the birds fell still to listen to the soft melody.

Nimrodel sang, and something in Mithrellas’ heart ached, for the song was sad yet sweet, solemn yet filled with light. She followed with the other handmaidens of the Lady, watching as Nimrodel walked, feet light as the notes that flowed from her lips.

 _I shall become the chiefest of her companions_ , Mithrellas swore to herself, biting back the yearning that filled her when Nimrodel’s eyes met hers. Perhaps someday, Nimrodel would grant her the closeness she so earnestly desired.

 


	22. the womb of the earth (OFC/OFC)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dwarf awakes below.
> 
> Tolkien Femslash Week Bingo: Dwarves: I17: Origin Stories, Lyrics: O42: “You were the first person on Earth”, Emotions G31: hunger

She woke beneath the mountain to a womb of stone and lay there, feeling the heartbeat of the earth around her. Veins of ore stretched out on either side of her, glittering in her mind’s eye. Thick slabs of rock moved with glacial slowness, sliding against each other like a lover’s caress drawn out over centuries.

Another was with her.

She reached out, yearning, and touched smooth hair, rough skin. Suddenly hungry for warmth, she crawled blindly forward, hands exploring the other’s body. Fingers brushed hers in return, and it seemed to her that they were much the same as hers, wide and strong like the roots of the mountain.

They shared warmth deep below, waiting together to climb up out of their shared birthplace into the light.

 


End file.
